


Snowed In

by RaeDMagdon



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Clothed Sex, Enemies With Benefits, F/F, Fingering, First Time, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Naughty language, Oral, Oral Sex, Swearing, magikats are a bit weird, stuck together, the premise is really simple lol, they get trapped during a blizzard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 01:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19141060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeDMagdon/pseuds/RaeDMagdon
Summary: Catra and Adora find themselves trapped together during a blizzard. While they hole up to survive the storm, unresolved feelings surface.





	Snowed In

**Author's Note:**

> Smutcation!!! This one is way longer than 2k, but... it just kept going.
> 
> My tumblr and twitter are both @raedmagdon.

“Fucking shit.”

That pretty much summarizes Catra’s current situation. Traveling all the way to Nowhere’s frozen tit on Hordak’s orders had been bad enough. Now, she’s stuck here, buried beneath a mound of snow and more than a few boulders.

Worst of all, she isn’t alone. Adora— _ No, She-Ra, _ Catra reminds herself, with plenty of bitterness—is sprawled only a few feet away, blissfully unconscious. She looks like usual herself again, though: the medium-tall dishwater blonde with the severe chin, rather than the statuesque warrior-goddess with way too much hair and even more unnecessary leg.

_ Thanks, Adora, for the post-battle avalanche. Asshole. _

It could be worse, though. At least the snow isn’t directly on top of her. Some of the rocks clustered together during the fall, forming a ceiling of sorts. An accidental snow hut, if Catra were to describe it generously. But that doesn’t mean she can stay here. The rocks could collapse, or more snow could slough from the cliffside at any moment.

Catra stops clawing at the snow to breathe warm air over her numb fingertips. Her coat and fur aren’t nearly thick enough to keep out the chill, and she’s barely made any progress toward digging her way out. Deliberately infecting She-Ra had been a no good, horrible, downright terrible idea in retrospect, but the opportunity had been too intoxicating to resist.

_ I could’ve won. Taken control. Used She-Ra’s power for my own goals. Could’ve had Adora back…  _ She banishes that thought with a shake of her head. Right now, she has to focus on survival. That means getting out of here before She-Ra wakes up and decides to pummel her into lunch meat. All the agility in the world won’t do her any good trapped in a small space like this.

Thinking about She-Ra, and winning, and surviving gives Catra an extra burst of strength. She claws at the ice, digging like her life depends on it—because it does. Eventually, her frantic persistence pays off. The snow beneath her paws loosens, forming a narrow hole to the surface. 

“Thank fuck.”

Catra presses her nose to the hole, gulping frigid air like a drowning woman. She’d been digging long enough for the oxygen inside the icy tomb to go stale. After a few breaths, she draws back. The howling of the wind outside is much worse than she’d thought. When she puts an eye to the hole, she can’t see anything but violent streaks of grey flying sideways across a black sky. The gusts of wind have turned wild enough to blow the snow horizontal.

_ If I go out there, I’m pretty much dead. I have no fucking clue how to get back to base, and I’ll probably freeze to death in the dar. If I stay here… _

She draws back, eyeing her unconscious enemy. Maybe dying alone out there in the cold isn’t a bad way to go. At least she won’t have to share such a small space Adora.

_ She-Ra. Dammit, she’s She-Ra. Your enemy. Remember, dummy? _

After a silent, agonizing internal conflict, Catra plugs most of the hole, leaving a small opening for fresh air, and slumps down onto her rear, wrapping her arms around her knees. She and Adora worked together once before, back in that weird First Ones temple. Assuming Adora isn’t infected and violent when she wakes up, maybe they can call another temporary truce. Living is better than dying, even if it means depending on her enemy one more time.

_ And this will be the absolute last time. No fucking question about that. _

***

Adora becomes aware of her head first. It pounds with its own painful heartbeat, and she whimpers. Opening her eyes right away is out of the question. If she does, things will probably get worse.

The next thing she notices is the cold. Her skin’s on fire with it, and she grits her teeth in discomfort. She shudders, wrapping her arms around herself, but they feel heavy and damp. She curls into a ball, sucking in a painfully cold breath.

_ Where am I? _

Despite her misgivings, she cracks one eye open. It hurts as much as expected, and doesn’t give her much information. Wherever she is, it’s dark and cold and very uncomfortable. The only light comes from a small hole in some sort of wall, and beyond, more darkness. The howling of the wind is far too close for comfort.

“Hmph. You awake?”

_ That voice. It can’t be… _

Adora’s heart jolts. She sits up despite her pain and exhaustion, whirling toward the sound. “Catra?” Squinting, she makes out a hunched form in the shadows. The silhouette is familiar. Her stomach sinks.

“Yep. Still alive and kicking. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Where are we?” Adora asks, but what she  _ really _ wants to know is,  _ Why haven’t you killed me? _

Catra’s shadow only offers a dismissive snort. “Fuck if I know.”

Adora sighs.  _ At least we aren’t physically fighting. Yet. _ “How did we get here?”

“You broke a cliff.”

“What?”

“You. Broke. A. Cliff. While throwing me off it.”

Memories come rushing back, blurry at first, then clearer and more disturbing. She remembers redness. Anger. Power throbbing through her. She remembers Catra, too.  _ Hating _ Catra. Wanting to feel Catra’s blood flow over her sword and through her hands… 

_ That wasn’t me! I’d never… _

But a small, frightened part of Adora wonders how true that declaration is. She still doesn’t fully understand what She-Ra is capable of.

_ Mara went crazy before me. What if this is part of who I am now? If I can’t control myself when I’m infected…  _

“Wait a minute. You  _ infected _ me! This is all your fault!”

She reaches for her sword instinctively, but already knows she won’t find it. Her eyes have adjusted somewhat to the dark, and she can see the blade in Catra’s lap, lying across her thighs.

“Nuh-uh,” Catra hisses, curling her claws around the hilt. “If you want your stupid sword back, you’ll hear me out.”

Adora bites her lip. Her bloodrage is gone, but part of her is still very tempted to punch Catra right in the middle of her smug face.

“Fine,” she grunts. “Not that you deserve it.”

“Whatever.” Adora can’t be sure, but she thinks she hears a hint of hurt in Catra’s gruff tone. “Look, I don’t want to die in this fucking blizzard. Let’s wait the storm out, find civilization, and then we can fight it out fair and square.”

Adora has to laugh at that. “Fair?  _ You _ want to fight fair?”

“I can beat you, fair or unfair,” Catra declares. Her glowing yellow and blue eyes form narrow slits of annoyance. “Unfair is just more my style. So, goody-two-shoes, what’s it gonna be? You should take the deal if you ever wanna see your dumb friends again.”

“If my friends are dumb, what does that say about you?”

“We’re  _ not _ friends,” Catra snarls, much more sharply than Adora is expecting, “and once we get out of here, I’m gonna kick your ass. Got it?”

Adora heaves a sigh. “Fine.” Catra has her over a barrel, and it isn’t like she can think of any better ideas. She wants to survive the storm, even if it means working with her ex-best-friend.

***

They spend the next several minutes shoring up their makeshift cave. Catra packs in extra snow between the boulders to make sure none of the walls collapse, ignoring the painful chill in her paws. She works on the opposite side from Adora, careful not to wander too close. Just because they’ve called a truce doesn’t mean Catra wants to be around her any more than necessary.

Eventually, they run out of things to do. Their little den no longer seems in danger of collapsing, and it’s even a bit warmer thanks to their body heat.  _ Still cold, though. Way, way too cold. _ Catra fights the impulse to wrap her arms around herself, but then decides, fuck it.  _ Adora’s freezing her ass off, too. Not like I’m giving away some secret vulnerability. _

“I really don’t want to suggest this,” Adora says from the opposite side of the snow den, “but we should probably huddle up. We’ll be warmer.”

Catra pulls a face. “Huddle up? Seriously?” But as soon as she dismisses the suggestion, another shiver passes through her. She shifts from foot to foot, hoping some movement will help, but it doesn’t.

_ Fine. We’ll… huddle. Ew. _

Reluctantly, she shuffles across the cave to where Adora’s silhouette is, barely visible in the dim light. The hole in the wall doesn’t offer much, considering how dark it is outside. She slouches, pressing her back to the wall, and Adora slides down beside her, scooting over until their shoulders touch.

It… isn’t as bad as she’d feared. Adora just sits there without looking at her, and after a few seconds, Catra relaxes. Just a little, but enough. It _ is _ a whole lot warmer with Adora’s arm pressed against hers, although she can feel it move every time Adora breathes.

They stay like that for a while, neither of them talking.

“Do you think anyone’s out looking for us?” Adora asks, breaking the silence.

Catra gnaws her bottom lip. “In this weather? They’d be crazy to.”

“Yeah.” Adora folds her arms around her knees, resting her chin on them. “But Bow and Glimmer won’t give up. They’ll keep looking, no matter how cold it gets.”

_ Shit, Adora. Barely ten minutes in, and you’re already bringing up your new, perfect friends.  _ “Why ask, if you already know they’re so great?”

Even in the darkness, Catra can see Adora’s scowl. “I wondered if you thought Scorpia might be out looking, too. Or someone else from the Horde.”

_ Scorpia. Right. _

Catra isn’t sure. Her self-appointed right hand woman is constantly up her ass, but she’s loyal to a fault. Annoying, but loyal. “Dunno. Maybe.”

“Hmph. Really helpful there, Catra.”

Silence falls again.

“Do you ever miss me?”

At first, Catra isn’t sure the question is real. It  _ can’t _ be, because even Adora wouldn’t be dumb enough to ask something like that. Not out here, in the middle of a snowstorm. Or… or maybe it makes sense, because the two of them could freeze to death out here before anyone finds them, and there won’t be another chance to ask.

Catra’s stomach churns. “Miss you?” she scoffs, valiantly attempting to ignore the ache in her chest. “I hate you.”

“I know,” Adora whispers, in that infuriatingly soft and understanding voice of hers. “I know you hate me. But do you miss me, too?”

Catra starts to say no. She  _ should _ say no. There isn’t any other acceptable answer. But… 

She closes her eyes in the dark, remembering things she wishes she wouldn’t.

“I guess sometimes I miss you. A little.”

“Oh.”

Catra can hardly breathe. Her heart hammers with fear. Fear that she’s revealed too much, a crack of weakness Adora can exploit. A crack she was  _ sure  _ she’d shored up long before now…

“I miss you all the time,” Adora continues.

Catra should be angry. She  _ tries _ to be angry. But all that wells out of her is a gushing fountain of hurt, and she doesn’t know what to do with it. In just a few words, Adora has cut to the core of her, leaving the old wound raw and open. 

“Then why did you leave?” she asks, her voice from cracking.

“I had to, Catra. I loved… I still love you more than anyone in the world, but I love the whole world more. And the Horde is hurting the world.”

_ Stupid Adora. Stupid, stupid Adora. Why does she say these things? What the fuck does she want from me? _

But some part of Catra already knows, and that knowledge terrifies her.

_ She says she still loves me, but how can I believe that? I don’t even like  _ myself.  _ How can little miss perfect, little miss too good for everyone else…  _

That isn’t who Adora is, though. Adora is loyal, and Adora is brave, and as hard as Catra has tried to forget those things, and as much jealousy as Shadow Weaver has instilled in her, she just can’t. Not while Adora’s warm arm is pressed up against hers, and Adora is talking to her in that soft voice, the one Catra remembers from when they shared childhood secrets in their bunk. She misses that more than she can say, having someone to cuddle in bed. Not that she has anyone to tell, except Adora.

So she does, because the wind is still howling outside, and inside their dark little cave, she can pretend her secret will hide here with them forever.

“You broke me when you left,” she whispers. “I’m broken now.”

A warm hand cups her cheek. Adora’s calloused fingers. “You’re not broken, Catra. The Horde is, but you’re not. You’re too good for them.”

Catra doesn’t even notice the tears running down her cheeks until Adora’s thumb brushes them away. She doesn’t say anything. She can’t. Her lips tremble with each breath, and she sits there, overwhelmed by the hand cupping her face. Adora’s hand. “Not good enough to make you stay.”

“Nothing and no one could’ve made me stay,” Adora says. “But you’re good enough to fight for, Catra. You  _ are.” _

And even though she has no fucking idea why, Catra believes it. Some part of her believes it, very very deep down, and a tiny light she’d thought snuffed out long since flickers to life within her.

_ Maybe… _

Up close, she can see Adora’s face. Adora’s eyes, glistening with tears in the dark. Adora’s forehead, wrinkled with concern. Adora’s lips, slightly parted, with silvery puffs of air streaming between them. Those lips tremble, like they’re expecting something.

Somehow, Catra knows what to do. She knows with a bone-deep certainty she hasn’t felt in forever—not since Adora left, in fact. She hesitates, then leans in, covering Adora’s mouth with hers. It tastes cold and hot at the same time. Salty from tears, too. But they’re kissing, and for the first time since the start of the blizzard, Catra feels truly warm.

***

Adora is expecting the kiss, but that doesn’t mean she’s ready for it. She and Catra have done this before. Not often, and not for several years. They’d practiced once or twice when they were just becoming teenagers, because they wanted to know what it was like, and their friendship had allowed them to experiment in relative safety. 

Back then, Catra’s lips had been warm and a little dry. Brash and confident, probably to bluster through their mutual nervousness and inexperience. That first kiss had stirred butterflies in Adora’s belly, a sensation she hadn’t known what to do with until a year later, hiding and sweating under the sheets.

It’s different now.

Catra’s lips are cold. Trembling. They part slightly, and Adora opens, too. She doesn’t get butterflies this time. Instead, she feels a hollow ache in the center of her chest, a longing for something she can’t name. As Catra’s mouth moves against hers, the ache sinks, settling low in her belly.

Oh.  _ Oh. _ She hasn’t felt… _ this... _ in a while.

Her new life is so stressful she hasn’t had time for things like crushes, kisses, or masturbation. But all those old needs are rushing back, and Catra is the cause. Catra, who definitely still hasn’t forgiven her. Whom she hasn’t forgiven, either.

_ Does it matter, though? _

It should matter. Adora knows that. But while Catra’s kissing her, it’s easy to forget. She tastes exactly how Adora remembers, and it’s so  _ nice _ to feel Catra’s teeth scraping against her lower lip.

Adora tries to get ahold of herself, but it’s already far too late. The small taste of what she could have—Catra, free of the Horde, a friend and maybe even lover to share the wider world with—is too intoxicating to resist. She knows it’s a hopeless fantasy. After this, Catra will undoubtedly push her away again. But here, in the cold darkness, she clings to the only source of warmth and hope nearby. Even if it is Catra.

_ Especially because it’s Catra. _

They break apart, but only because they have to breathe.

“This is stupid,” Catra mutters, but she kisses Adora again, deeper and more urgently.

Adora doesn’t stop her. She wraps her hand around the back of Catra’s neck, curling desperate fingers into her mane, and  _ whimpers. _ It’s a vulnerable, embarrassing sound, but it slips out anyway. Catra seems to like it, because she moans in answer, and her tongue presses into Adora’s mouth.

Their childhood kisses weren’t like this, full of tongue and tasting like need. Briefly, Adora wonders if Catra has a lover now that she’s gone. If she’s found someone else to continue practicing with. Someone else to share her bed, and more besides. 

_ I really hope not… _

It’s frightening, admitting she wants to be that person—to be Catra’s someone—but she does in spite of everything. Scorched earth makes for fertile soil, after all.

“What is this?” Adora asks the next time they break for breath. Part of her is desperate to know, but another part of her is frightened she won’t like Catra’s answer.

Catra seems just as clueless as she is. “No fucking clue. I want to kiss you. Is that enough?”

It’s enough.

Adora shows her by tugging gently on the fur of her mane.  By sucking her bottom lip. By guiding one of Catra’s hands into her coat, under the hem of her shirt, to feel bare skin. Skin that burns. 

Catra’s claws flex, but don’t scratch. They retract, and then Catra’s holding her, caressing, applying pressure with the pads of her fingers. It’s so soft. So careful. It makes Adora’s heart race, and hot blood rushes between her legs.

_ Come on, Adora. Are you really doing this? With Catra? _ But her mind is already coming up with a dozen justifications.  _ We could die out here. This might be our last chance to share our feelings. Maybe I’ll convince Catra to join our side, or at least make her less likely to kill me next time. _

In the end, Adora doesn’t know why she unfastens the top button of Catra’s coat and peels the collar down, just enough for her to press her lips to Catra’s throat. She just knows it feels right when she whispers, “Can I?”

***

Catra’s had a lot of practice shutting off her brain. That doesn’t mean she’s always successful. Sometimes, the hateful voice in her head is too loud to ignore. (It always sounds like Shadow Weaver, for obvious reasons.)

Not tonight.

She waits, her entire body tense, for something horrible to happen. For Adora to push her away. For self-loathing to wash over her. Everything good always gets ruined somehow. But Adora is kissing her back, and moaning, and whispering, “Can I?” with hot breaths that tickle her neckfur.

Before she can think better of it, Catra says, “Yeah.”

She has no idea where  _ that _ answer came from.

She doesn’t change her mind, though. Not when Adora unfastens another button, then another, nor when they open each other’s coats with shaking fingers. It’s far too cold to take them off entirely, so they press together as best they can, letting the warmth of their bodies bleed through their shirts. Sharing heat.

The heat grows when Adora’s blunt nails rake the back of Catra’s neck, and around behind her ears as well. She’s always been sensitive there, and that intimate touch, the knowledge that Adora  _ knows _ her, makes her tingle even more than the light scratching.

Catra wants more. More kisses. More touches. More heat. She can’t ask with words, so she asks with hands and lips, sliding her palm up Adora’s side. Her skin is like a soothing fire to Catra’s palm-pads. Smooth, too. So different from hers. Adora does have a few fine hairs on her flesh, though, and Catra feels them stand on end at her touch.

“Mmm…”

That soft sigh is all the permission Catra needs. She moves up and down, tracing a longer line each time, until her fingers stop just beneath Adora’s breastband. There, she hesitates. Once she crosses this barrier, there won’t be any going back.

_ So what? Line’s already crossed. No more fucks given. _

Just as she makes up her mind to cup Adora’s breast, Adora’s hand clasps hers, guiding it into place. They tense, shudder, and sigh as one. Catra can already feel the point of Adora’s nipple poking through the constrictive fabric. Her chest shifts with every shallow breath.

Soon, Catra has both hands under Adora’s shirt, feeling her over her breastband, coaxing out all kinds of interesting noises. It isn’t difficult. Adora is so vocal, so responsive, and Catra loses patience, pulling the band down and rolling Adora’s nipples between her fingers. They stiffen even more, and Catra’s sure it has nothing to do with the cold.

“Catra…”

That one, whispered breath rocks them both. Catra’s body crackles with electricity, her core clenching around nothing. She wonders if maybe this should be slower, sweeter, but she doesn’t have the time or patience. Neither does Adora, who nuzzles the crook of her shoulder, spilling hot, thick breaths there.

“I like… it feels…”

“Good,” Catra finishes for her.

“Wanna feel you, too.”

Climbing into Adora’s lap is yet another unconscious decision. An instinct. She withdraws her hands from beneath Adora’s shirt and braces them on her shoulders instead: broad, strong shoulders that mark her as a warrior.

For once, thinking about Adora as a warrior, as She-Ra, doesn’t throw Catra off. That goody two shoes hero is someone else. Somewhere far away. This is Adora, the same girl she’s always known. Her best friend. Her everything.

Only Adora is very much a woman, not merely a childhood playmate anymore. The sounds she makes as she undoes the rest of Catra’s coat and caresses her hips are most definitely womanly—low and thick, like honey, and Catra shivers to hear them.

“Catra,” Adora whispers again, tracing patterns in Catra’s fur, paying special attention where it thickens slightly into a tuft above her pubic bone. “If you want me to stop…” Adora’s fingers slide lower, down Catra’s quivering belly, toward the waistband of her pants. She toys with the button, and Catra swallows.

She doesn’t want Adora to stop. Not at all. To prove it, she tilts her hips forward. Just a little. Just  _ enough. _

Adora’s fingertips stall. She pours her energy into kissing Catra instead, and Catra growls, frustrated by the restraint. The infuriating gentleness. 

_ This’d be so much easier if she’d just fuck me, _ Catra thinks, but she’s already shed tears in Adora’s presence tonight, and she’s got very little left to lose. She grabs Adora’s hand and shoves it where she wants, into her pants and beneath her underwear as well, to the wetness and heat waiting there. Heat Adora is entirely responsible for.

The cold is so very far away now, with Adora’s fingertips stroking between her legs. Toying. Shaking slightly, as though she still isn’t sure if they should be doing this. Catra’s sure, though. She isn’t sure of a lot, but she  _ wants _ this with a fire she can’t and won’t fight. And she’s always been the type to go after what she wants.

She mutters instructions into Adora’s lips.

“There…harder. Fuck. My clit, just…yeah, up and… _ shit, _ just like that.  _ Just _ like that, Adora—”

Adora doubles her efforts. Before Catra realizes, she’s started chanting:  _ Adora. Adora. Adora. _ Adora is everywhere, under her and against her and inside her, and she doesn’t want it any other way. She doesn’t want anyone else.

***

Catra feels…different inside.

Not that Adora has any experience with sex other than touching herself. But while Catra’s walls are hot and tight and smooth, like hers, they have an interesting texture. The ridges inside are more pronounced, and when Adora probes them, Catra stiffens in her lap and  _ yowls. _

Adora’s eyes go wide. She’d thought she’d heard every sound Catra was capable of making before.

_ Apparently not…  _

Before she can decide what to do about her new discovery, Catra seizes her mouth in another ferocious kiss, and starts grinding her hips forward like her life depends on it. The noises keep coming, pouring between their lips, but Adora doesn’t mind. She  _ likes _ that Catra is loud.  _ Loud because of me. _

That phrase, ‘because of me’, becomes the only thing that matters. The wetness Catra smears on the heel of her hand is a result of her actions. The way Catra’s claws flex, where her fingers have burrowed beneath several layers of clothing in search of more warmth, are timed with Adora’s strokes. She’s never felt so powerful, nor so vulnerable.

She wonders if giving pleasure makes most people feel like this, all kinds of ways at once, or whether it’s because she and Catra have a…Not a bond. That isn’t right. But they’re  _ connected _ somehow, in ways both good and bad.

_ Good right now, though. So good. _

Catra’s teeth sink into the side of Adora’s neck, and she’s suddenly reminded just how sharp those fangs are. The points don’t quite pierce her skin, but the threat of them makes her shiver nonetheless. It seems like Catra wants things a little rougher, and although Adora had planned on gentle, she’s willing to be flexible.

“Fuck,” Catra growls. “Fuck fuck  _ fuck _ Adora don’t stop  _ don’tstop.” _

Adora thrusts through the slew of curses. Her heart rises as Catra’s voice does, until the slippery heat around her fingers squeezes impossibly tight. The ridges inside become more pronounced, and Catra goes rigid, staring at her with wide, wild eyes that don’t look like they know what they want.

“What?” Adora whispers against the thick fur of Catra’s mane. “What do you need?”

“I need…shit, I need…”

Catra trembles again, and Adora hastens to reassure her. “Breathe. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

“Use…hff...” Catra rasps, panting hard into the collar of Adora’s coat. “...nails…dig in...”

That gives Adora pause. It’s certainly not a trick she’s keen for anyone to use on her—and she suspects most humans probably feel the same.  _ Maybe it’s a magikat thing? _ But Catra’s asking for it, and Adora wants so badly to please. She digs into the ridges along Catra’s front wall, grinding the heel of her hand into the swollen bud of Catra’s clit at the same time.

Catra’s wail is almost loud enough to drown out the storm. She screams and shivers, rippling around Adora’s buried fingers, spilling a river of wetness into her palm. Adora groans at the feel of it, heat running everywhere. Her reward.  _ I did it. I caused this. I made her come.  _ She dips down, taking Catra’s mouth with hers again.

The final kiss lasts until Catra’s contractions ebb. She releases a shaky sigh of relief, but Adora remains inside her a little longer before pulling out. She doesn’t want Catra to be uncomfortable. Only then does she notice the pink mark on her wrist, where the band of Catra’s pants dug into her skin. There are scratch marks on her back, too, and her coat has holes and loose threads. Catra’s damn near shredded parts of it.

Catra doesn’t seem sorry about it, either. Instead, she grasps Adora’s wrist—studying the mark, Adora thinks, until she realizes Catra is staring at her fingers. The darkness makes it difficult to see, but she can feel how wet they are. And maybe Catra can see better than she can in the dim light. Maybe for her, they’re glistening.

“Shit, I needed that,” Catra mumbles, drawing Adora’s fingers into her mouth. She swirls her tongue around and between them, and the rasp of her tongue sends a jolt between Adora’s legs.

“I…” There’s so much she wants to say, but despite what they’ve shared, she’s too scared. “I’m glad I made you feel good.”

Instead of responding, Catra tips her back, pushing her down onto the packed snow. It’s cold and uncomfortable, but with Catra’s warm body stretched on top of hers, Adora decides it’s more than bearable. She’s even willing to brave the frigid temperature as Catra pushes her shirt up a few inches. Not too high, but enough to see and feel.

“We gotta figure out a way to do this without getting snow up your ass,” Catra says. Up close, Adora can see her brow furrow with determination. Her thinking face. It’s way more adorable than it has any right to be.

“Hold on.” Adora sits up part-way, taking off her coat, but leaving her shirt on. She stretches the ruined outer layer on the ground, then lies back on it. “It’s a goner anyway.”

A flash of sheepishness passes across Catra’s face, but she doesn’t admit to anything. As usual. Instead, she nods in approval, running her hands up along Adora’s thick fleece leggings. Adora isn’t surprised when Catra pulls them down from her hips, but she still wiggles at the fresh cold. She hopes Catra intends to do something to keep her warm, or this is going to be  _ very _ uncomfortable.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” Catra says. She sounds a little worried, like she’s afraid Adora might actually say no. “I know it’s  _ really _ fucking cold.”

Adora decides not to remind Catra of the fact that they have at least ten more important reasons  _ not _ to do this. She’s already sleeping with the enemy, so to speak. The last thing that’ll stop her now is a little snow.

“I’ll be fine.”

Apparently, that’s all Catra needs to hear. She dives between Adora’s legs, and Adora gasps and giggles as that rough tongue scrapes against her inner thigh. She’s never felt it on such a sensitive part of her body before, and the ticklish sensation almost causes her to knee Catra in the face.

“Hey,” Catra says, dodging just in time. “Watch it.”

“Sorry.” Adora digs her booted heels into the ground and spreads her knees as best she can with her leggings around the middle of her thighs. Somehow, Catra finds enough space to settle. Her tongue returns, lighter this time, as though she’s learned her lesson, and it feels…

_ “Oh.” _

Catra pauses, then licks again, closer to the crook of Adora’s thigh.

“Oh!”

Adora’s hands shoot down to fist Catra’s mane, not quite pulling, but finding a grip. If that tongue keeps going higher, she’ll need it.

“You smell good,” Catra purrs.

Although the rest of her is still cold everywhere Catra’s mouth isn’t, Adora’s face burns. “Thanks, I guess?”

She feels two fingers peel her outer lips apart, and then that wicked tongue is right where she needs it, lashing ever so lightly over the exposed tip of her clit. She can feel the clip of Catra’s fangs, too. They never pierce her skin, but she’s hyperaware of them, especially when Catra pulls her in and  _ sucks. _

Catra’s mouth is a furnace. The difference in temperature hits like a shockwave, but the moment Adora gets used to it, she tugs Catra’s mane and tilts her hips forward for more. Encouraging. Begging without words. Catra keeps sucking, painting slow swipes with her tongue.

Soon, their small cave is no longer dark grey. A kaleidoscope of color flashes behind Adora’s eyes, with white heat behind it all. She trembles, but not from cold. Catra has somehow set her body on fire in the middle of a snowstorm, and she’s afraid she might be burning too fast.

(She’s afraid about a lot of things.)

But Adora isn’t afraid as Catra presses a finger to her entrance, looking up at her expectantly with those different-colored irises. She nods, and Catra pushes inside, her claw considerately sheathed to leave only the blunt fingertip. She curls, as if searching for something, and it’s Adora’s turn to cry out in pleasure.

***

_ Huh. Guess humans like to make noise, too. _

It doesn’t track with what Catra knows about Adora, the few times she accidentally walked in during ‘private’ moments (and pretended not to notice, as one does in close quarters), but she sees no need to complain. In fact, she’ll consider it an accomplishment. 

No, not just an accomplishment. A  _ competition. _ She’s determined to make Adora come just as hard, to make her feel just as good, as Adora made her feel a minute ago. This is one face-off she won’t back down from. Not even a little.

After that, Catra focuses all her efforts on driving Adora insane. She forms a seal with her lips and curls her fingers, paying attention to the sounds Adora makes: loud, needy, and uninhibited. But some are louder and needier than others, and Catra uses those, repeating whatever causes them.

It’s surprisingly easy. Adora is incredibly responsive, and Catra begins to rethink her stance.

_ Maybe it doesn’t have to be a competition. _

Thinking about it that way had been natural at first, but now it feels uncomfortable. Wrong. She eases up, feathering her tongue over Adora’s clit, relishing the way Adora tugs her mane to try and get her to resume sucking.

_ Maybe it’s about being wanted. Enjoying the fact that Adora wants me again…that’s all I ever wanted, for her to want me…  _

_ Don’t get all mushy, Catra. Turn your stupid brain off and lick. _

So she does. Or tries to. It isn’t so easy to numb herself while listening to Adora, smelling her, tasting her. Everything’s so intense, and the harder Catra tries to ignore her feelings, the bigger they grow. They aren’t just anger and hurt, either—and that scares her most of all.

“Catra, it’s  _ so good, _ you’re  _ so good—” _

Adora’s praise makes the fur on Catra’s spine stand up under her shirt. Her toes curl in her boots, and she grips Adora’s hips harder.  _ Fuck. _ It frightens her, how much she craves Adora’s praise. How her body  _ and _ heart respond to it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Please, Catra, more.”

_ I’ll give you more. I’ll give you anything. _

It doesn’t take much. All too soon, Adora jack-knifes off her soggy, shredded coat and screams. Her walls pulse around Catra’s fingers, and her clit gives a noticeable twitch. Catra does her best to follow Adora’s increasingly frantic movements. It puts a crick in her neck, but she can’t stop now. Not while Adora’s right on the edge.

Feeling Adora fall apart beneath her isn’t quite what Catra hoped it would be. It’s  _ better. _ Everything about it—Adora’s cries, her shivering heat, the way her fingers dig into Catra’s mane—overwhelms her. She works her fingers and tongue into a frenzy, determined and desperate for more. More of everything Adora has to give.

She doesn’t stop until Adora whimpers and pushes the top of her head. 

“Whoa. Catra. That was…Catra.”

Catra releases Adora’s clit, resting a cheek on the pillow of her thigh. The flesh there burns warm. “Hmph. ‘That was Catra?’ Real eloquent there.”

“You know what I mean. Um, help me pull up my pants?”

She does, fully aware of the fact that Adora must be freezing. Briefly, she wishes they were somewhere else. Somewhere private and warm, where they could talk. Really talk.  _ Maybe it’s for the best. What is there to say? Just because we mad—just because we fucked doesn’t mean I’m gonna leave the Horde and join her prissy princess alliance. Not when I’m finally making something of myself… _

But a seed of doubt has been planted. She’s been happier in the past few minutes, stuck in a frozen hole with her worst enemy, than any time since her recent promotion. If it can even be called that. As usual, nothing good seems to work out for her, and her new role and responsibilities have given her more trouble than they’re worth.

Swallowing a lump and blinking back tears, she decides not to think about it for the rest of the time they’re here. Deciding what to do next is a problem for future-Catra. Current Catra is content (mostly) and sleepy (very), and still cold enough that she wants to share Adora’s body heat. She wiggles up until her face is level with Adora’s again, and snuggles in close, shivering slightly even though she wasn’t the one with her pants down.

Adora seems to sense her exhaustion. “You can take a nap if you want,” she says. “The storm’s still going on out there. Nothing better to do.”

Catra can think of several better things to do, but Adora’s right. She’s tired, emotionally more than physically, and sleep is one surefire way to shut her brain off.  _ Besides, I haven’t slept with Adora in a long time… _

It’s not the bunk they used to share, but Adora’s body is warm and soft. They make a nest of Adora’s coat, and Catra wraps an arm around her stomach, resisting the temptation to knead. She knows it hurts Adora when she does that—and she’s done pretending she wants to cause Adora pain, at least for the next few hours. 

_ Future-me will probably have a thing or two to say about that, but future-me can suck it. _

She closes her eyes, listening to the sound of Adora’s breathing, feeling Adora’s chest rise and fall beneath hers.


End file.
